(By shrewd observation and the posts of the lovely misslucyjane, I have noticed that it's National Poetry Month...)

I can't make every minute holy.
I don't want to stand before you
like a thing, shrewd, secretive.
I want my own Will, and I want
simply to be with my Will,
as it goes toward action.
And in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times,
when something is ( Read more... )